


Under Fire

by orphan_account



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Post-Season/Series 02, Revenge, Torture, complete disregard of season 3 and onwards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 06:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3108866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey and Mike's relationship has been strained since Mike betrayed Harvey. But when Mike is kidnapped as leverage for money by a man who Harvey once beat in a case, will Harvey be able to forgive and help him?</p><p>Rated M for themes of torture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - don't own. Nothing is mine, apart from my sadistic ideas that wouldn't ever happen because Suits doesn't accommodate that. 
> 
> I've merged the chapters for ease of reading, thank you for the response! Sadly I've lost those comments now, so I'd just like to thank the people who did comment for their support and for taking the time to comment. So thank you!

“You’re fired.”

Mike gaped. “What? Harvey, you can’t-!”

“I damn well can. I hired you, I can fire you.” Harvey glared.

“But Jessica said-”

“I don’t give a shit what Jessica says! You’re not my associate anymore, we’re done. Get out of my sight.”

“But-”

“Out!” Harvey shouted, causing Donna to turn to look through the window, slightly startled.

Mike stormed out, clenching his fists. He returned to his cubicle, strewing paper and stationery all over his desk. He was about to pick up the papers to give them to another associate, when a hand landed on them, preventing him from moving them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jessica.

“Harvey fired me,” Mike replied testily.

“ _Harvey_ ,” she accentuated his name, “has had a lapse of judgement. You’re not leaving. I haven’t put my ass on the line to protect you to have him throw you out.”

So Mike settled back down, re-arranging his desk back to how it was before his momentary status as 'out of the job'. He pulled out one of his cases. One of his and  _Harvey's_ cases, from before all this mess. Unfinished. Perhaps if it was done by tomorrow Harvey would forgive him, or at least acknowledge his existence with something other than a glower or a huff. He opened the folder and began working.

 

* * *

 

 

"Why are you still here?" Donna asked as she passed his cubicle on the way out. Damn, she really stuck by Harvey. 

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. "Um, Jessica told me I wasn't fired." 

Donna peered over to look at his work. "That's Harvey's case."

"It was," Mike looked up, "our case. I thought if-"

"-If you completed it as soon as possible, he'd take you back."

Mike nodded.

Donna smirked. "That's not going to happen Mike. You've really screwed it up this time." She turned and left, not looking back once.

The office was empty. The other associates had left for the bar, and Mike figured that if Donna was gone, so was Harvey. He sighed before continuing with the case. It was around half past eleven when he finished it, which he thought seemed pretty good going. He picked up the pile of paper, and headed towards Harvey's office. He opened the door and walked towards the desk. The papers landed on Harvey's desk with a flutter, and Mike turned to leave. A figure sat on the couch. He jumped, letting out a sound that  _wasn't girly in the slightest_.

"Harvey?" Mike practically screeched.

"Easy there, Mike. Wouldn't want you to scare yourself." It was Harvey, sitting with a glass of scotch.

"Jesus. Look Harvey, I was just dropping off-"

"-The files for the Chapman versus Michigan case. I know. Donna told me."

"Donna? I thought she'd left."

"She had. But we're not void of modern technology, Mike. We have phones."

"Oh." They stayed there in an awkward silence for a few seconds, before Harvey spoke.

Harvey stood up. "If you think this will make any difference to my opinion of you, you're wrong."

"Harvey, please! Jessica threatened me, she-!"

"-Did she? I thought I told you that if someone has a gun to the head, there are 146 other options. God, I hired you because you were, you seemed, smart! I thought you'd change, develop. Not end up the same old worthless piece of shit you were when I hired you!" Harvey was yelling now, and Mike had to admit the words stung.

"Harvey," Mike said, voice thick. "Please. Give me another chance."

" _Another_ chance? I've given you fifty! And you've screwed it up every time," Harvey took slow, steady steps towards Mike, like a cat approaching its prey. "You may still work here," Harvey's voice was dangerously quiet, "but you do not work for me. I never want to see your face again. If I do, then-" Harvey let out a breathy laugh, "-you'll regret it." 

Mike took his leave - left Harvey's office, left the floor, left the building. He was angry, he was sad and he felt like he had lost everything. He had. He lost his grandmother, his friends, _Harvey_ , and his job was only there because Jessica insisted he owed it to her. And, worst of all, he felt he deserved it. 

"Oi!" A gruff voice sounded behind him. Mike turned, with a growing sense of fear and dread.

The figure stood there, a dark shape against the light backdrop of the city. He was wearing all black, with a sort of bandanna covering his nose and mouth. He was short and stocky. It took Mike longer than he would like to admit that the man was holding a gun.

"Are you Michael Ross?" the man asked.

Mike paused. "N-No."

The man raised his gun. "Don't lie to me!" he bellowed.

Mike raised his hands. "Look, I don't know who you are or what you want. I can't help you."

"Yes you can," the man said, and Mike could hear the smirk in his voice.

Suddenly, Mike was grabbed by two people behind him, and a black van pulled up beside them. He barely processed what was happening before he was roughly shoved into the van. The door closed.

The man climbed in, still holding the gun. Pointed at him. "Don't even think about trying to escape. We need you."

"Who are you?"

"You'll find out soon enough." 

He was hit in the head. Mike lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

Mike woke in a dentist chair. He tried to move, but found himself restricted. 

"Good morning, Michael," the same voice as before said. 

Mike swallowed. "What do you want with me?"

"I'm glad you asked me that, Michael. Let me tell you a story. About 8 months ago, Harvey Specter defeated my case at trial. I lost everything," the man practically growled. "So I thought, why not get revenge? Hurt him as much as he hurt me. Of course, I couldn't file a lawsuit I knew I'd lose. I can't take his job or his money away from him. What I can do, is hurt him through someone else. You." He moved into Mike's field of vision. He had dark hair, brown eyes and a trimmed beard. And his smile, his smile was the most threatening thing about him - it was a warm, almost patronizing.

"What? Look, Harvey doesn't care about me. Even if he did, he doesn't anymore."

"Then I'll make him care." The man grinned, pulling out his phone. "Tell you what, you call him. He can't trace this, I've got people here who can bounce the signal. If he picks up, I won't do anything to you. If he doesn't, well. You'll have to find out, won't you?" He walked over to Mike and undid the ties on one of his arms, handing him the phone. Mike dialed the number, praying Harvey would answer.

 _'You've reached the voicemail of_ Harvey Specter _. Please leave a message after the tone.'_

The man pulled the phone back and ended the call. "Oh dear. Shame." Mike let out a shaky breath. "Well, I might as well introduce myself. I'm James. We'll be spending a lot of time together."

 

* * *

 

 

Harvey had a headache. He momentarily wished Mike was still working for him (mainly so he could offload his work to someone he could  _actually_ rely on), before crushing that feeling under his growing anger and sense of portrayal.

"Harvey." Harvey groaned inwardly and looked up to look at Jessica. "Do you know where Mike is?"

"Why the hell would I know?" Harvey questioned bitterly.

"Oh, I don't know. Just your habit of  _stalking_ your associate."

"Stalking? What are you on about?" It wasn't stalking. Donna had just passed on her knowledge to him. And after all, Donna knows all. "Anyway, he's not my associate anymore."

"Well, he's not here." Jessica paused. "Find him."

Harvey practically gaped. "What? Why? It's not like he hasn't not shown up before."

" _Because_ he has been working harder in the past week than he was before, and I don't think he's going to 'bunk off'." Harvey was about to speak again, but Jessica held up her hand. "Don't. Find him, or find out where he is." She left his office.

Before Harvey even gets a chance to think for himself, Donna walked in. He sighed.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Jessica wants me to find Mike. I don't want to because I don't care."

"Look, we're both angry at Mike. But just finding out where he is does not mean you forgive him."

"I think he's just late. He was always late when he worked for me."

"You know full well that Mike's been working on your case harder than any of the other associates. He's not going to be late because he's trying to earn your forgiveness."

"He's not getting it."

"I'm not saying he has to. But you will regret it if something happens to him." She turned to go, looking back at him once sternly, before returning to her desk.

Harvey assumed by the way that conversation went that for once, Donna  _didn't_ know. So he got up and headed to the IT department.

 

* * *

 

 

"Benjamin," Harvey grinned falsely.

"Harvey Specter," Benjamin replied in a mock-cheery tone. "What can I do for you?"

"I need you to trace a phone."

"I can't do that."

"Don't give me any of that crap. I know you can," Harvey said, grin never leaving his face.

Benjamin stood unflinching. "Okay, I can. But why would I do that for you?"

"Because I can have you fired within the next few minutes."

"Why, for being unwilling to help you in an illegal practice?" Benjamin smirked.

"No, for revealing to me that you can do it. For all they know, I could have asked you to find out whether you could. All I have to do is say I suspected you of this illegal practice, and I'm in the clear. Then, you won't just be facing a loss of job, you'll be facing investigations. Now, Benjamin, you can decide whether you help me, or whether you risk investigation and a possible jail sentence."

Benjamin looked at his distastefully. "Why don't you go to the police for this?"

"Too much effort, to be honest. I'd have to go through all sorts of forms for something I barely care about. Much easier to come down here. And, may I say, much more entertaining."

"What's the number?" Harvey passed over a piece of paper with Mike's number on it, and Benjamin picked up a laptop and began typing. Only a few seconds later, he turned the laptop around to Harvey.

"Here," he shoved the laptop into Harvey's hands. "Return it later."

Harvey looked at the screen as he walked away, a slightly baffled expression briefly crossing his face. Mike's mobile was traced to the side of a road, just on the outskirts of the city. The signal didn't change, didn't move. It had also, apparently, been there for several hours. On the laptop he pulled up a map, finding the location of the signal. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing there. No buildings, nothing. So, either Mike had been sitting by the side of the road since around midnight until 1:32pm, or he had lost it. Harvey figured that there was no other place Mike would be other than his apartment or some bar, so he didn't think anything of it. But he couldn't shake the slight feeling of worry in the pit of his stomach.

 

* * *

 

 

James paced the room, bloody scalpel in his hand. "Come on Michael, this will be no fun if you don't react."

"Fun?" Mike laughed slightly. His shirt was open, several long cuts on his chest. Truth was, he wanted to scream, shout, but in some small way he hoped that this would  _stop_ if he wasn't 'fun', as James put it. 

"Look, if you don't cooperate I'm going to start cutting off appendages."

"What?" Mike jerked against his restraints slightly.

"How else will I... notify Harvey of this situation," James smiled like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So what, you'll send him my hand or something?" 

"Oh no, not your hand. I need you to write him a letter."

"Huh?"

"Well I can't just send a text." James said, approaching Mike again. He traced over his chest with the blade, occasionally digging in slightly. Blood raised to the surface and Mike let out a quiet groan. "'Atta boy, Michael. You know, I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of this."

"I've told you, Harvey won't care," Mike strained. "He'll be happy I'm out of his hair."

James sat on the side of the chair, picking the blade up and watching it glint in the dim light. "Come now, Michael. Of course he cares. He wouldn't have reacted the way he did to your betrayal if he didn't." James looked back to Mike, and moved the scalpel back to his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

"Harvey Specter?" A young delivery boy asked in a shaky voice.

Donna looked at him with contempt. "Yes." She held her hand out, taking the small parcel from his hands. She smiled slightly as the kid left as quickly as he good. She got up and walked into Harvey's office.

"Donna?" Harvey looked up.

She put the parcel on his desk. "This came for you."

"I haven't ordered any box sets," Harvey smiled and pulled the parcel towards him. He opened it, pulling out a small box. He pulled the lid up. Inside was a folded up scrappy piece of paper and a Dictaphone. He to Donna with slight uncertainty. He unfolded the paper, finding a note written in shaky, vaguely familiar handwriting.

_Harvey,_

_I'm sorry for bothering you, I know you don't care anymore but he said I could write to you and you only._

_He said that he wanted to get back at you, that you destroyed his life. I can't say much because he won't send this if it's not okay by him._

_I know you're probably glad that I'm not there to bother you, and you probably think I deserve this, but please help me. Please. Sorry._

_Mike_

The bottom was stained with blood. Harvey re-read it. He swallowed before handing the note to Donna. She glanced at him with a look of shock. He slowly picked up the Dictaphone, feeling slightly numb. He pressed play. There was a series of screams (Mike, Harvey noted darkly), followed by sobbing, and what sounded like a muffled plea of 'Harvey' (Harvey's heart clenched and he subconsciously clenched his fists).  _"Hear that Harvey? You hurt me, I hurt you."_ A bark of laughter.  _"Well, him. Remember. This is all your fault."_  There was a pause.  _"Oh, and Harvey? Involve the cops and he's dead."_ The recording ended.  _  
_

"Harvey," Donna said in a thick voice.

Harvey nodded. "I- I know I was pissed. I still am. But I have to help him."

Donna nodded, before Harvey stood and headed out the office. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

"You have to report this to the police, Harvey."

"No."

"Since when did you listen to other people?"

"Since Mike's life was at stake!" Harvey shouted, causing half the floor to turn to look. "I'm going to call Vanessa."

 

* * *

 

 

"Mi-ike!" the sing-song voice woke him. As Mike opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of James looming over him. James smiled. "I sent your letter." Mike blinked and looked away. James' demeanor changed. "Well, as you're not in the mood to talk." He picked up a bat from the floor. "You know Michael, this really isn't personal." He raised the bat and brought it down full force on Mike's leg. There was a sickening crack, and Mike screamed. James made a sad face. "Oh dear."

"Why are you doing this?" Mike whispered hoarsely.

"You know Michael, you've asked that before. That memory of yours must be slipping," he stroked Mike's face, pushing slightly on one of the bruises he had left there earlier. "Do you think it's anything to do with this?" Mike whimpered. "I'm sorry it was you, but you must understand. Harvey Specter deserves this. Do you know how many times I could have done this to him? So many, so so many. For someone who works against criminals, he's awfully callous when it comes to looking after himself in the city at night." He smiled. "But damn, I've never seen him get so close to anyone. You see Michael, he cares about you," he hissed to Mike like it was an insult. "And this is the best way I can hurt him." James pulled out a phone. "Say cheese." The camera flashed. "Oh, this is beautiful, Mike. I'm sending it to Harvey."

 

* * *

"What's going on?" Benjamin sat in Harvey's office. "Who's she?" he gestured at Vanessa.

"She my PI. You're here to help me." Harvey said.

"Why?"

"I need you to trace a phone."

"What, again? Same one?"

"No, not the same one," he snapped.

Benjamin put his hands up. "Okay."

"The number is withheld. They've probably redirected the signal." Harvey handed Benjamin his phone. "Do anything other than what I told you, you're out."

Benjamin left to go back to IT. "I need to get some things." He walked out the door, a little slower than Harvey would have liked. 

Vanessa lent forward. "You may not want to tell him, but you're telling me. What's this about, Harvey?"

"My associate. He's... gone."

"Gone? Are you stalking him?"

"No!" Harvey sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He pulled out the note, passing it to Vanessa. No way was he going to listen through the audio message again, he'd give that to her later. She looked back at him.

"I see."

Benjamin came back in, laptop in his arms.

"You done?"

"Nearly. He only bounced the signal once, I can trace it back. Not that well done, if you want to hide yourself." He put his laptop on Harvey's desk. "There."

"Okay." The same map as before was open, this time focused on a building about eight miles out of the city. He handed it over to Vanessa. "I know who this is, I know his voice. His name is James Weller. Find out what's here, who it belongs to. Everything. I need it as soon as possible."

 

* * *

 

 

Harvey had been pacing around his office for about an hour before Vanessa returned. He turned to look at her expectantly.

“It’s an old warehouse,” she said, pulling out a large sheet of paper and laying it out on Harvey’s desk. “This is the layout. There are several ways in, I think this one-” she pointed at a fire exit leading out the building on the side opposite the road, “-is this the best one,” she looked at Harvey. “We need to call someone. We don’t know if he has anyone on the doors.”

“He won’t. He hasn’t got enough money. I expect he’s used what he had already.”

“You can’t be sure.”

Harvey sat down, running his hands through his hair. “We have to get him out soon, Vanessa! I can’t- I can’t leave him.”

She sighed and seated herself by his side. “I know.”

They stayed there in silence for a few moments.

“I’m going to call Lola Jensen,” Harvey said, breaking the hush.

“Who?”

But Harvey had already grabbed his phone and left, leaving Vanessa in his office. When he came back in a minute or so later, she looked at him expectantly.

“She’s hacking the security cameras. And Weller’s phone.” Harvey held onto his phone with a white knuckled grip. When it buzzed with a text, he had never moved so quickly. He smiled slightly, holding the phone up to Vanessa.

“There is no security. There’s only him and Mike in that building.”

“He won’t know we’re there until it’s too late,” she realised. “We can call the police.”

Harvey stood quickly. “We go now,” they left his office. “Donna!” He called.

Donna appeared in front of him. “What is it?”

“We’re going to help Mike.”

 

* * *

 

 

James swivelled  on his chair, sighing. "Michael, come on!" he whined. "You're so boring."

"Why don't you just kill me?" Mike forced out.

"Where's the fun in that?" James grinned. The smile fell off his face as quickly as it had appeared. "All in due course, my dear," he stood and clapped his hands together. "I'm sure Harvey will come soon, I've left him enough clues. As much as I hate to admit it, he's not an idiot."

"He won't come."

James leered over Mike's face. "You better hope he does," he pulled a knife out of his pocket. He smiled sweetly, tracing the thin blade over Mike's face and into his mouth. "Now, what can I do here?" The sharp edge traced over his tongue. "You can't be a lawyer without a tongue." James scraped it over his teeth. "Though it is an age-old method to remove teeth." He brushed the knife over the side of Mike's cheek. "But a knife is not practical for teeth. What about a reminder of me?" The blade pressed against his cheek. "For you. For Harvey. What his work can do to people," a warm smile graced James' face, as out of place as a virgin in a brothel. "Yes, I rather like that."

Mike began to taste blood.

"Will you scream for me this time?" James murmured. Suddenly, he quickly pulled the knife through Mike's cheek. 

And Mike did scream.

As if on cue, Harvey Specter burst through the door with a stumble, followed by two police officers with raised guns. 

James looked like a child at Christmas. "Harvey!" he greeted. "Long time no see." His face darkened.

Harvey looked around the room. At Mike. At James Weller, blood stained blade in his hand. His face flickered with various emotions - disgust, fear, worry. They were quickly replaced by stone cold anger. 

James Weller pulled a gun from his waistband, predatory smile on his face. He aimed the gun at Mike. "Look at him, Harvey. And I mean really look. Remember what he looks like now. Remember me." Harvey did, taking his attention off of Weller. The gun shot.

Before Harvey knew it, he had stepped towards Mike. But there was no gun shot wound. He swung to look back at Weller. The man was on the floor, twisted smile on his face, eyes vacant and blood pooling. One of the officers had rushed to his side. 

"H-Harv..." Mike's weak voice trailed off.

Harvey rushed to the younger man's side. "Shit," he said, hands wavering over Mike's body, unsure of where to touch that wouldn't hurt. He soon realised that Mike would be choking on his own blood. He quickly undid the restraints on his arms and pulled him over slowly. Mike let out a gargled sob, which Harvey figured would be scream if he wasn't so close to passing out. "You're okay, it's okay," Harvey said softly. Mike thought how out of place the gentleness in his voice sounded. 

"Harvey," another voice said. Mike identified it as Donna. "You've got to move so the paramedics can get to him."

Mike feebly reached out to Harvey’s arm, hand shaking. Harvey took his hand with both of his, stroking it with his thumb softly. “I’m sorry,” he said in a thick voice.

The paramedics pushed Harvey away slowly and began fussing over Mike. Donna put a hand on Harvey’s back and lead him outside.

The air was cold, the night dark. The pair left the building with a sense of numbness. Donna pulled Harvey into a tight hug. “He’ll be okay,” she whispered, not entirely believing it herself.

Later, Harvey wouldn’t remember how a young paramedic placed a blanket around him, declaring him to be in shock with a worried look in her eyes.

He wouldn’t remember how Donna had led him to the car with tears in her eyes to drive to the hospital, neither would he remember her gentle touch in the vehicle with the intent of comforting him.

He wouldn’t remember the number of hours he spent in a hospital chair feigning sleep, nor Jessica’s visit to him in the waiting room.

Harvey certainly wouldn’t remember crying for the first time since his father died and throwing up in the hospital toilet.

 

* * *

 

 

When Mike woke up, he had a headache. The room was a clean white, the brightness of it causing him to squint. He blinked several times and looked around the room. It was relatively small, various machines were positioned around his bed and a singular white plastic chair. He was confused. Not about the chair itself, but about its occupant.  _Harvey Specter_. Harvey was disheveled, usually perfectly styled hair falling slightly over his face. A thin layer of stubble covered his jaw and he was wearing the sort of clothes Mike would wear. His eyes were closed and he was slumped in what seemed like a relatively uncomfortable position.

"Harvey?" Mike rasped, struck by a pain in his cheek.

Harvey jolted awake. "Mike?" 

Mike coughed. "Ugh, my head is full of bees," he mumbled, trying to move his mouth as little as possible.

A ghost of a smile graced Harvey's lips. "You're not in pain then?"

"Nothing other than a head filled with sand," Mike paused. "What happened to James?"

"James?" Harvey asked incredulously. "You're on a first name basis?"

"I did spend several days in captivity with nobody but him," Mike replied, slightly testily. He shut his eyes. His mouth really hurt. He wanted to stop talking. "Sorry. For everything."

"Mike, you don't need to apologise," Harvey murmured. "What you did before is in the past. I'm not happy about it, but what happened...it put things in perspective. Some things are bigger than that. I can get past it.  _I'm_ sorry," he coughed, tone changing. "Do you remember what happened? Only the doctors said there could be some brain damage from blood loss."

Mike nodded.

"I'm going to call the doctor."

Sure enough, he did and the doctor entered the room with a smile on her face. She was mid-forties, tall, salt and pepper hair cut short. She handed him a whiteboard and pen. "Okay, Mike. I need to ask you some questions. Write your answers. Given your condition, this'll be better. Could you tell me what month it is?"

 _August_ , he wrote.

"Where do you work?"

_Pearson Hardman_

"Could you tell me your full name?"

_Michael James Ross._

She smiled warmly. "We may have to do more tests later, but I think it looks good for now. Do you want me to run through your injuries?"

 _Okay_ , Mike wrote slowly, somewhat hesitantly.

"You have various lacerations to your chest - they're not too deep and should fade. One shattered tibia, the other only fractured. You'll need physical therapy for that, but we think you should be able to make a recovery with minimal long lasting damage," she looked up from the chart briefly. "Your cheek was cut completely. It's only stitched up for now, but if you want we can look into plastic surgery to limit the scarring. It won't fully disappear but it will get much better."

He nodded.

"If you need anything, just press the button on the side of your bed," she left.

Harvey and Mike sat in silence for a while.

"I should call Donna," Harvey said quietly. "You should rest."

Mike closed his eyes and very soon fell asleep. Harvey didn't leave the room until he was sure he was.

He called Donna.

 _"How's Mike?"_ Straight to the point.

"He woke up," relief flooded into Harvey's voice. "He's going to be okay."

_"I'm coming down. Oh, and Harvey? Go home, get changed, have a wash. You've been there for days. You stink."_

He smiled. "Thanks Donna."

 

* * *

 

Donna entered Mike's room. Mike was woken by the door opening. 

"Sorry," she said.

Mike grinned. 

She walked over, grinning back. "I'm so glad you're okay," she placed a hand on the side of his face. "I brought someone with me."

Rachel entered the room, face expressing such sympathy as only she could. "Hi Mike," she said, voice thick.

He stretched out an arm and Donna moved aside. Rachel approached him, placing a kiss on his forehead. "It's so good to see you."

Donna sat down on the chair and Rachel on the end of his bed. They told him about everything that had happened, how the office was a mess, how even Louis was worried about Mike's sudden disappearance. Mike listened to their stories avidly. The whole ordeal had left him, to say the least, panicked and shaken. Whenever he closed his eyes, he was back, James Weller looming over him with that sadistic smirk morphed on his face. The care of other people, even those he thought would never care for him again, made him feel better. Made him feel protected. At home. 

They talked and gossiped for verging on an hour when Harvey returned. His usual air of authority had returned as well, and honestly Mike was glad to see it back. The Harvey Mike had seen earlier was almost unnerving. Back were the spiked hair and perfectly tailored suit, gone the creased t-shirt and scruffy hair. It was good. Familiar.

"Rachel, want to go get coffee?" Donna asked, hinting to the other woman about their need to leave due to Harvey's pride.

Rachel smiled at her and got off the bed, approached Mike and kissed him on the cheek. "It's good to see you."

Harvey sat down, hands clasped in his lap. "Mike, I'm so sorry. This is my fault."

Mike looked at him, puzzled.

"I don't know, maybe if I wasn't angry at you I would have found you sooner. Or you wouldn't have been working late or I would have been with you that night. I'm sorry."

Mike dropped his hand off the bed, grabbing Harvey's, who looked at him, bewildered.

"Thank you," he murmured softly. "Thank you."

 


End file.
